


Perfect Stranger

by Engineerd



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dimension Travel, Gen, Nightwing and Flamebird (DCU)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21653782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineerd/pseuds/Engineerd
Summary: Damian from a universe where Bruce never came back from the dead is accidently sent to a universe where Bruce never died.He doesn't like it.OR“I’ve been Ro-” Damian cut himself off, remembering at the last minute that this Grayson didn’t know he wasn’t actually this universe's Damian al Ghul. If he told the truth now, he’d just be called a crazy liar and shipped back to the League. “I mean, I’ve been trained by the League of Assassins since birth. I know more than you think I do.”
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 101
Kudos: 759





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my extremely self-indulgent version of a Flamerbird fic. In order to focus on the Dick & Damian relationship, this story doesn't paint Bruce in the best of lights. No character bashing, but I want to give you all fair warning.

Damian came to in a room he almost recognized. He was wearing a plain sleep-robe, much like he had as a child, back when –

He suddenly realized that the reason this room looked so familiar was that he was in a room in the middle of a complex controlled the  _ League of Assassins.  _ And he had no memory of getting there.

Damian jolted upright, looking around for any assailants. There wasn’t anyone in the room, which was peculiar, and he wasn’t even remotely chained to the bed. If Mother had really kidnapped him, she wouldn’t have been this sloppy about it.

Surprisingly, a search of the room revealed weapons (including Damian’s favored katana), regular day-clothes, battle wear, and even a sketchbook and some art supplies stuffed under the mattress. The weapons didn’t appear to have tracking devices in them, at least not that Damian could detect, and he could always ditch them later. The same with the battle armor – Damian was already wearing League clothes, anyways. 

It was almost too easy to sneak away. This was the League of Assassins, an organization that had violently declared him an enemy. He should have been guarded, he should have been murdered on sight…

He took the first fighter jet he saw and he flew straight to Gotham. He touched down in one of the abandoned marshes surrounding the manor, and he ran and he ran and he ran and he ran straight down the first secret entrance available to the cave. 

Like Mother didn’t know where it was anyways. 

Usually the Batcave was practically deserted, but maybe since he had been kidnapped, there would be someone there. For the first time in his life, Damian was relieved to see Drake sitting there on the old Batcomputer, dressed in pajamas and chugging coffee.

“Drake!” he shouted, bouncing forward. “Thank god you all noticed. You know how my mother-”

Drake abruptly spit out his coffee and whipped around, staring wide-eyed at Damian for maybe a second before slamming his hand down on the intruder button. Alarms immediately started blaring. 

Damian stared at him in confusion. “Drake,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “What the-”

Drake then threw a smoke grenade immediately at Damian’s chest. He barely had time to dodge due to their proximity, and ended up coughing as he brought a hand up to shield his face a second too late. 

Damian crouched low to the ground and sprinted in the direction of the elevator back up to the manor, which could double as a safety vault. Maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on if he could lock himself away. One strange kidnapping might be explained easily, but the kidnapping and Drake’s behavior…

Although visibility was poor, he recognized the elevator opening and a man stepping through. Not just any man - Bruce Wayne. 

Bruce Wayne had been dead for three years. 

Damian stopped in his tracks.“Father?” he asked, timidly, haltingly. “You’re...ali-”

He barely recognized the smell of the knock-out gas exuding from the canister Father pointed at him before he passed out. 

* * *

He woke up in one of the Batcave’s rarely used holding cells. 

Red Robin was standing watch outside. Or rather - Damian did a double take; Robin was standing watching outside. “Drake,” Damian said slowly, “What are you doing in your old Robin costume?” He stood up, doing a once-over on his own body. Damian was the right size for sure, but maybe… “How old are you?”

Drake, dressed in his red and black Robin costume from right before Father had died, narrowed his eyes behind his mask. “You know how old I am.”

Damian resisted the urge to press his nose up against the glass separating them. “Humor me. Is there any chance you’re 16, and we’ve never met before?”

“I know exactly who you are, Damian al Ghul,” Drake spat. “What, no immediate plot to murder me this time?”

“And I’m definitely 13?” Damian asked, his last hope that this was a simple time-travel incident floating away. Next best case scenario, stuck in a hallucination? There was really nothing he could do about that but wait it out. 

Drake crossed his arms. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“I want to go home!” Damian spat at him. 

He was interrupted by Batman sweeping into the room. Damian switched his focus over entirely but - the Batman standing before him wasn’t Richard. He was taller, his voice was deeper - he hadn’t seen the man in over three years, but it was Father, for sure. “Funny,” Batman commented. “Your mother just called in a panic.”

Damian swallowed the lump in his throat and corrected hoarsely, “Mother doesn’t panic. And my home isn’t with her, it’s here in Gotham.”

Batman and Robin exchanged a look.”Your mother will be here to pick you up shortly,” Father said. “If you want to tell me what you’re really doing here, now is your chance.” 

Damian blinked the moisture out of his eyes and slammed his hand against the door of his cage. “I’m telling the truth!” he shouted. “What do you mean, you’re sending me back to my mother? She’s going to disembowel me!” 

Robin snorted. “That technique runs in the family, then.”

Damian ignored him. “Father,” he said, focusing entirely on Batman. “Please listen to me. There’s something wrong.” 

Batman remained expressionless. “I thought I was no father of yours,” he said. 

Damian stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? I’m clearly your son. We - we look alike, at least.” 

Robin exchanging another significant look with Batman, before they both left the room together. 

“Are you just going to leave me here?” Damian shouted after them, anger and something he didn’t want to acknowledge as panic rising in his chest. “Father! You know my mother, yes? Talia al Ghul! She’s not second in command of the League of Assassins for her  _ parenting skills!”  _

There was no response. These versions of - of Father and Drake clearly didn’t trust Damian an inch, given that they were willing to invite  _ his mother  _ to the Batcave just for the chance to get rid of him. And if Drake was still Robin, that either meant that the version of Damian they knew had never been Robin, or was Robin and had done something so terrible that Drake had replaced him again. 

Damian waited for 5 minutes (and not just because his eyes were tearing up, definitely not) before breaking into the emergency override panel on the bottom edge of the cell door - they’d said his mother was arriving ‘shortly,’ whatever that meant, so he didn’t dare wait any longer - and sincerely hoped for the first option. If they’d switched the emergency override system from the one Damian knew, he would screwed - 

The override worked, and the cell door sprung open. Damian made a mad dash for the cave’s garage, stealing the closest of Drake’s Robin cycles and shooting out of the cave, disengaging remote control as he went. It was frankly a miracle he made it out of the cave, but Drake was clearly expecting Damian to go for weapons or a direct physical confrontation first, and was taken off guard by Damian’s sudden flight. 

Damian ditched the bike in center city Gotham, pick-pocketed a wallet outside the Wayne Enterprises building, and then took two buses and a train to New York. He ditched all of his clothes and the wallet there before hitchhiking south across New Jersey, almost reaching Philadelphia. He hotwired a car somewhere outside of Trenton and drove himself west for a while, before ditching it at a rest stop and hiding out in the back of a tractor trailer heading towards the great lakes. 

He arrived in Bludhaven the next day, hungry and cranky but most importantly exhausted, knocking on no less than 4 different apartments around the city before he found a door that opened to reveal an extremely surprised Grayson. 

“Before you say anything,” Damian cut him off, “Yes, I am Damian Wayne. No, I am not going to hurt you. No, I do not want to go back to my mother and the League of fucking  _ Assassins,  _ because believe it or not, I actually don’t want to kill any more people, and yes, you’d think my - my father-” his voice definitely didn’t choke up here “-would support that sort of thing, but  _ no.  _ I just need to hide from him and my mother. You don’t have to do anything permanent with me, Grayson, please just let me sleep for a few hours and then I promise I will be out of your and the entire family’s hair forever, if that’s what you want.”

Grayson’s eyebrows had climbed so high during Damian’s speech they were in danger of touching his hairline. “I think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

Damian’s heart sunk. “You don’t have to trust me, Grayson,” he said, “just - just please don’t send me back to my mother.”

Grayson considered him carefully before opening the door wider and gesturing Damian inside. “I guess I’m not going into work today.”

“I’m sorry,” Damian apologized, walking into the room on stiff legs. He didn’t recognize any of the furniture, but the general Grayson smell was the same. 

“I didn’t know you knew where I lived,” Grayson remarked. 

“It’s not like it’s hard to find out,” Damian said, heading over to the couch and face-planting on it. “I apparently am the only one who cared to.” 

He passed out within seconds.

* * *

He woke up with a jump as an evening news jingle blasted out from television. 

Next to him, Grayson fumbled with the remote for a few seconds before muting the TV. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologized. “I forgot this channel was so much louder.”

Damian sat up and started stretching. “What time is it?”

“Eighteen hundred,” Grayson answered. “You slept all day.”

Damian froze mid-stretch, memories from the day before returning. He slowly lowered his limbs and asked, “Do you really not know me?” 

“I know of you,” Grayson answered, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

Fuck, there went his last hope that this had been an unusually vivid dream. “Did you call either of my parents?” Damian asked thickly. 

Grayson was still regarding him carefully. “No,” he said. “You asked me not to and then immediately fell asleep. I guess you piqued my curiosity. You didn’t seem like how all the reports described you, considering you’re the guy who tried to murder Tim three times.” 

Damain scrubbed at his eyes with both hands. “Three?” he said, casting his mind over all the booby traps he’d set for Drake in the last few years. “When was the third time?” 

“About 18 months ago,” Grayson replied. 

18 months ago, Damian had already been Robin and had given up serious attempts at murdering anyone. “Any chance you would believe it wasn’t me?” Damian asked. 

Grayson’s eyes narrowed more. “I already told you my curiosity was piqued, Damian. I definitely ran a DNA test, and you definitely are who you say you are.”

That settled that - in this reality, whatever it was, Damian was definitely a murderer, and there was no way anyone was going to believe his case, and his father was still alive. “Well, then,” Damian said, standing up. “A promise is a promise. Thank you for letting me stay the night. You will hopefully never be hearing from me again.” 

“Damian, wait,” Grayson said, reaching out and snagging him by the sleeve. “Where are you going?” 

Damian glared, deliberately pulling his hand away. “I don’t know,” he said shortly. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything, I’ll just be hiding somewhere. I’ll figure it out when I get there.” 

“How old are you?” Grayson asked. 

“I’m thirteen, idiot,” Damian snapped. “I’m sure that’s in my file. You must have known that.”

Grayson didn’t react to the insult. “Look, I’m sure you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but you are just a kid, and I’d feel weird sending you off like that. Why don’t you stick around just one more night, until you have a plan? I’d feel a lot better about it.” 

Damian frowned. “What are you going to do?” 

“I’ll be here,” Grayson answered coolly. “Can’t leave you alone with my stuff. I’m sure you understand.” 

Damian huffed and crossed his arms. “And you won’t call my parents?” 

“I haven’t so far,” Grayson said. “I do have a question about that, though. Why are you running away?” 

Damian let out a bitter laugh and looked out the window of the living room - it was open, and if Grayson didn’t like his answer then Damian had a good chance of getting away before he was trapped. “I’m running away because I don’t want to be an assassin, Grayson,” Damian said. “I - I guess I thought Father might help, but he was just going to send me back with my mother.” 

Grayson stared at him. “Yeah. Boy who cried wolf syndrome, I believe.” 

Of fucking course. “Look, I know my record speaks against me,” Damian growled. “Whatever. I’m getting out.”

Grayson leaned forward. “Why now?” 

“I’m not a child anymore, Grayson,” he snapped. “I can think for myself. I know I’m years too late, but better late than never, isn’t it?” 

“That’s true,” Grayson replied. “However, family legacies can be hard to shake.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Which is why you still live in the traveling circus and perform on a regular basis.” 

“Acrobats are different from assassins.” 

“Would you have been an acrobat if you weren’t born into it?” Damian asked. “Because I like to think I wouldn’t have been a murderer at age 5.” 

“Are you sorry you were born where you were?” 

“No,” Damian said instantly. “And neither are you. We are who we are.” 

Grayson blinked. “That’s pragmatic of you, Damian,” he said. “Would you like some breakfast?” 

* * *

After two servings of cereal, Grayson offered to take Damian out clothes shopping, which Damian accepted because he was still wearing the stolen cast-offs of a stranger. They returned around 9 that night with three outfits of civilian attire. 

“It’s getting late,” Damian said when they returned. “Are you going out as Nightwing tonight?” 

Grayson gave him a little smile, which irrationally annoyed Damian. He knew his current position didn’t warrant Richard’s friendship, but the calm professional personality was getting very boring, very fast. “I don’t think so.” 

“What about work tomorrow?” Damian asked. “Aren’t you a policeman?” 

“I’m taking tomorrow off too,” he answered. 

“Do you need any help with any of your cases?” Damian asked. “There must be some work you can do from home. I would be a great asset. Also, I’m very awake and need something to do, and this would be a sure way to keep me from snooping in your things.”

“By snooping in my other things?” Grayson asked. “I do not need any help with my cases, thank you. You should be focusing on your little hideaway plan.” 

Damian slumped. “Right,” he muttered. 

Maybe he could head towards Kansas and find Jon - no, no, that wouldn’t work. If he did exist in this universe, his father was still Superman, who would probably recognize him and drag him back to Gotham in a heartbeat. His other trusted friends were in Gotham. The Teen Titans - no, if Drake was still Robin, he was probably still with the Titans too. That was no good. There was no one in the superhero community that would trust him over Batman. Actually, maybe he could appeal to Queen - no. His father and mother could both easily best Queen. 

It would be slightly more difficult to leave the continent, but if he could make it over to the Middle East there was a much lower chance of his father finding him, and Damian could have a quiet and disgustingly boring life in some little village where he wouldn’t stick out too much. No, that wouldn’t do. He could barely fit in in America, let alone Pakistan. What he needed a place with easy access to technology he knew how to use so that he could try to work out what happened to him, but enough space that no one could track him.

He wished desperately for something to do, something that would stop the thoughts of  _ if Father had lived he would have hated me, this is the first time I’ve seen my father in three years and he hates me, what’s wrong with me does he know something I don’t why why -  _

He fell asleep on the couch again around 9 hours later, the sounds of Grayson reading a novel and the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen his only background noise. 

* * *

Damian didn’t leave the next day, and Grayson made no motion to kick him out. On the third day - fourth, really, but Damian had spent the first one sleeping - Damian finally confronted him again. 

“You’re still not going to work?” 

“Damian,” Grayson said wearily, pausing whatever game he’d been playing on his tablet. “You know I can’t trust you. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is.” 

“That’s fair,” Damian replied. “But I know you can’t have that many vacation days to spare.” 

“It’s fine, I’m part time,” Grayson replied. “I get paid hourly.” 

Damian raised his eyebrows and looked around the apartment. It was a one-bedroom drywall mess that was nothing like the penthouse they usually lived in. “In that case, I must be causing an unscheduled dip in your income. Are you sure you can afford that?” 

“Damian,” Grayson scoffed. “I’m reasonable, but I’m also an ex-ward of your dad’s. I have access to whatever funds I need.” 

“But you don’t usually use funds on  _ rent,”  _ Damian guessed, looking around. “Look at this place, it’s clearly within your usual means. Which means you only ask for funds when something big has come up.” 

Grayson raised his eyebrows. “Something big has come up,” he said slowly, like Damian was an idiot. 

At least he was feeling comfortable enough to joke. “Yes, but you can’t tell my father about me,” Damian dismissed. “You should have something else as a distraction.” 

“Something that took this much time?” Grayson said. “Your dad and I are on good terms. I don’t need to explain myself.” 

“Come on, Grayson, it’s my father we’re talking about. Don’t be naive.” Damian shifted his weight to his toes, hoping desperately his lack of firsthand knowledge about his father wouldn’t leak through. “Come on, let me help you out with some casework. It can be boring paperwork, I don’t care. Anything. Just...I can help.” 

Grayson narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he said. “But if you pull anything, Damian Al-Ghul, so help me-”

“Damian Wayne,” he interrupted. 

Grayson regarded him carefully, and then smirked. “Actually, I do have some old files from the station you could help me digitize.” 

* * *

After the sixth day, Grayson apparently trusted Damian not to kill him in his sleep, because Damian had to wake him up around 9 in the morning when a distress call came through. “Grayson,” Damian called, cautiously lobbing a pillow in his direction. His brother predictably shredded it with the batarang - or wing-ding, as he heard this version being called - held in his hand. “There’s someone on your radio.” 

Grayson sat up and squinted at him. “What?” 

Damian lobbed the communicator at him, which Grayson deftly caught with free hand. “Distress call for Nightwing. From Troia. I don’t know what, exactly, I didn’t ask.”

“ _ Did you pick up?”  _ Grayson asked, semi-hysterically, bolting upright off his mattress. “Actually - How did you -” He looked around and saw the open panel on the wall.  _ “You broke into my Nightwing closet!”  _

“It wasn’t difficult,” Damian lied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “And no, I didn’t pick up your receiver, obviously. I don’t want anyone to know that I’m here.” 

Grayson glared at him and held his communicator up to his face like a phone. “Sorry, Donna, I was sleeping, what’s up?” He slid off the bed and started grabbing his uniform out of his closest, pulling on the Nightwing suit haphazardly. “Aliens?  _ At this hour?  _ Yes, I know what time is it, Don, you know my usual sleep schedule. Don’t we have solar powered - yes. Yes, I’ll be there, of course. 10-” he glanced at Damian. “-15 minutes. Over and out.” 

“If you want help,” Damian started. 

Grayson opened his mouth but then paused, clearly debating internally. “I have to go,” he said. “You have to stay here.”

“But-” 

“If you touch or booby-trap any of my stuff, the jig is up, Damian,” Grayson warned. “If you touch anything, I’ll be able to tell. Just stay here. Quietly. Make yourself breakfast or something.”

“I’ve been up since six,” he retorted. “I had breakfast hours ago.” 

Grayson sighed and continued pulling on his uniform in a rush. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Damian,” he said, plastering a mask over his eyes. “See you soon.”

Damian headed over to the window, unlocked the locks, and pushed it open for his brother. “Stay safe, Grayson.” 

Grayson looked surprised as he grabbed a grappling gun out of his belt. “Oh, ah, thanks... Damian.” He then vaulted out the window before Damian could answered, doing a complicated flip on the other side and swinging away. 

Damian stared after him. “Show-off,” he muttered, his voice sounding fond to his own ears. His own Grayson - well, his own Grayson was Batman, and only pulled out his older Nightwing costume when he wanted the opportunity to flip like that. Batman flew, but Batman never showed off. 

Rarely showed off. 

His Grayson’s old Nightwing costume was slightly different than the version this one had, the older version having stripes going down to the middle two fingers instead of colored cuffs around his forearms and shins. Damian swallowed and shoved thoughts about his own Grayson out of his mind - it didn’t matter, because this whole reality was just a hallucination. An annoyingly vivid and ongoing hallucination, but a hallucination nonetheless.

After all. In real life, Father was dead. 

Damian began picking up the odds and ends Grayson threw around the room in his hurry to get ready and putting them away in the Nightwing closet. The closet had a much more functional organizational system than the rest of the house - first aid supplies here, projectiles here, spare masks - actually, there was an unlabeled container next to the masks drawer. 

Damian opened it to find a  _ red  _ version of the Nightwing suit. “Whoa,” he said, pulling it out and looking it over. “Grayson, what was this supposed to be?” It wasn’t just spare parts - it was a spare whole suit. “Is it still functional, I wonder?” 

“Still works,” a female voice said behind him. 

Damian yelped loudly, jumping about a foot in the air and raising the Nightwing suit to his chest like a shield.  _ “Holy shit!”  _ he yelled, taking in the figure in black and yellow standing by the window. It was a different uniform than the Black Bat one he was familiar with, but it inevitably was - “Cain, please tell me that’s you. You scared the shit out of me and that would be really embarrassing if it was someone less than your caliber.”

She paused, and then slowly drew off her hood in the back and mask in the front. “It’s me,” Cassandra Cain answered, staring at him. 

“What are you doing here?” Damian asked. “Grayson only left two minutes ago.” 

She shrugged. “Dick called.” 

“But you got here so fast,” he said. 

“Dick’s been acting weird,” she answered. “I was nearby.” 

Damian’s heart sank. “He told,” he said. “He told you guys and now you’re just guarding me until my mother comes to pick me up and-”

“He did not tell,” Cain interrupted. 

He stared. “But you knew he was acting weird.” 

“He blew off family brunch,” she said. 

Damian huffed, throwing down the red Nightwing suit onto the bed between them. “Have we met before?” he asked, the thought striking him suddenly. While he wouldn’t say he knew Cain  _ well  _ back home, she at least kept in regular contact. In this universe...who knew?

Cain was staring at him. “Not really,” she said. 

Damian narrowed his eyes. That could mean anything, but he had no choice but to take her at face value. “Well then,” he ground out, “nice to meet you.”

She just blinked at him, and didn’t respond as she hopped off the windowsill and entered the room further. 

He bit his lip and watched her poke around the room. The facts were that Cassandra Cain could probably tell things about him from his posture that he didn’t even know himself, and she could definitely take him in a fight. It’s not like he was going to do anything, anyways. 

Cain turned back to him. “You…” she said. “You’re a bird.” 

Damian froze. “What?” he barked. He hadn’t told anyone where he was really from - there was no one to tell. 

“Cooped up,” Cain finished. 

He let out his breath. “Of course,” he said. “Grayson can’t let me out, I’m - I’m me.” 

Cain smirked, picking up the red Nightwing suit and holding it up in front of her. “You have big shoulders,” she said instead, closing one eye and looking at Damian in the suit in front of her. “It’ll be big, but you can roll up the sleeves.”

Damian blinked. “What?” 

Cain threw the suit at his chest, which Damian caught dumbly. “Change,” she said. “We’re going out.” 

“But Grayson-”

“I will take care of you,” Cain said. “Go. Change. We’re going out.” 

* * *

“I’m going to fall,” Damian grumbled, pulling up his pants again. “If this is a clever set-up to murder me, very well done, Cain.” 

Black Bat - if that was still her codename - turned her head to him. Her face was covered with a mask and a hood vaguely reminiscent of his Robin one. “Funny.” 

“Thanks,” Damian said dryly, aiming the grappling hook very carefully. “People are going to think Nightwing is a clumsy oaf, the way I am.” 

“You are fine,” Cain said. “So many complaints for one small problem.” She shot her own line out over the block, and Damian was forced to jump and follow.

“Don’t you mean large problem?!” he shouted into the wind, landing wobbily beside her and proceeding to pull up his pants. 

She waved a hand dismissively in his direction. “It’s just your balance.” 

“Just my balance - balance is the most important thing, you - you -”

Cain turned to look at him. 

“...associate,” Damian finished lamely. 

She was smirking under the mask, he just knew it. “Come on,” she said, racing forward. “You are adjusted. People to save.” 

_ “What?” _ Damian questioned. “Are you serious?” 

She nodded. “That is why you have come, no?” 

The two of them didn’t stay out that long, just enough to stretch their legs. And, sure, maybe Cain pulled someone out of a burning building that he  _ may  _ have helped with. And maybe there was a cat stuck in a tree on the way home. But other than that, it was a quiet loop around the city, and maybe they’d even be back before-

“Oh, crap,” Damian said as he swung inside the window to find his brother already there. 

“Yeah, oh crap,” Grayson said, arms crossed and one foot tapping. “Are you wearing my old suit?” 

Damian scowled and itched his mask, saved by the arrival of Cain behind him. “Dick,” she said, pulling the cowl off her head and smiling warmly at him. 

His older brother blinked. “Cass,” he said. “Why-”

“You missed brunch,” she offered sweetly, hopping down off the windowsill. “Damian and I had fun. Good choice.” 

“This was your idea,” he said. 

“Yeah,” she said. “It was fun.” 

Grayson narrowed his eyes and looked at Damian, who instantly plastered a smile on his face. “Yeah, it was fun,” he echoed. “It was her idea. I’m not really familiar with the Nightwing operation, after all. ” 

His brother’s expression didn’t change. “Right,” he said. 

“He is a good kid,” Cain added, stepping in front of Damian almost protectively. Even though she was a few inches shorter than he was, he appreciated the gesture. “Good instincts. It was good of you to let him stay, Dick.” 

Damian and Grayson were both staring at Cain in disguised shock. “Yeah,” Grayson said slowly. “Good of me to put up with whatever League of Assassins long-term spying ploy or whatever-”

“I’m not a spy!” Damian objected. “I don’t have any sort of endgame, I told you, I’m just trying to keep my head down so my mother-” 

“Or your father,” Grayson interrupted. 

“I’m not lying!” Damian said, ignoring the  _ stupid  _ feeling of betrayal curdling in his gut. He turned to his supporter. “Cain, tell him, I swear I’m not.” 

“Right, you just quit the League?” Grayson accused. 

Damian felt something like tears pricking his eyes and was suddenly very glad he was still wearing the mask. “Fuck you, Grayson, you’re the one who told me to stay here longer. I-” his voice cracked, and he turned around back towards the window. “Whatever, I’m going. Goodbye, Cassandra.”

He leapt out the window and only narrowly managed to sink his grappling hook into the roof of a neighboring building in time. He listened closely, but no one appeared to be following him - no one was following him, no one was coming after him -

It was unfair, unfair of Cain to put him in the suit again, and say all those things, to wave something like hope in front of him. Damian took directions at random, quickly getting lost in the unfamiliar suit and unfamiliar city. Why wasn’t someone coming after him?  _ Why wasn’t Batman coming after him?  _

He stopped on a random rooftop, catching his breath and staring out over stupid Bludhaven. Grayson wasn’t Batman, and no one was coming after him. He could make his peace with that. He had to, and he had to start making another plan. Staying with Grayson had made him complacent, as always - he was on his own. 

That was when he was grabbed roughly by the back of the neck. 

“What - Grayson!” Damian howled, kicking out with his legs to free himself. “Let go of me, I am not a cat,  _ get off _ .” He shoved the other man away from him. “What! What do you want from me, I said I was leaving! Where’s Black Bat?” __

“You mean Batgirl? She kicked me out, and that’s my suit,” Grayson said. “I have my own trackers in it, you know-”

“What, did you want to throw me out naked?” Damian asked. “It’s just an old suit, Nightwing, it can’t have that many of your secrets hidden in it! I would have given it back eventually!” 

“And where were you taking it, exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” Damian hissed. “What do you care if I don’t have anywhere to go, anyway?” He blinked furiously behind his mask, his eyes burning suddenly. “My own father doesn’t trust me - he never did, he never will.” It was like Father had died all over again. “I just want to go home, but  _ I can’t,  _ I don’t know how-”

He wanted Batman to come rescue him. He wanted Richard, hand outstretched,  _ Hey there, Little D, you can be Robin, you know,  _ he wanted Pennyworth and Alfred-the-cat and the penthouse and even Brown and her pranks and Drake who he was just starting to understand, and, “-and I thought you might understand something about quitting,” Damian finished, voice rising maniacally. “I mean, you’re the only Robin that’s ever quit and I thought maybe you could help me and-”

The Grayson standing in front of him was entirely wrong. He didn’t have the scar on the back of his neck where he was once been shot, and he didn’t have the threatening growly voice to use when Damian was misbehaving, and he had  _ the goddamn Nightwing suit on that should have been retired years ago because Richard was Batman, his Batman, and this whole world should have been better because Father was alive, but it wasn’t, it was worse, and-  _

“Damian,” Grayson said in front of him, two hands suddenly on both of Damian’s shoulders. “Breathe. Just breathe, okay? In. Out. Good.” 

“I know how to breathe,” Damian muttered, stopping to inhale when Grayson threw him a look. 

“Of course you do,” Grayson agreed, continuing to breathe deeply. “Look, Damian, you can stay with me, alright? I’d rather have you here than...wherever else. I’m sorry I yelled at you.” 

Damian wanted to apologize for imposing, just to hear the response  _ Lil D, that’s what family’s for!  _ But he was terrified he would receive something else instead, so he just said to the floor, “I can be useful, you know. Earn my place. I’d be a good daytime Nightwing, or your Robin, or whatever.”

Grayson sighed and released his shoulders. 

Damian didn’t look up. “I wouldn’t even kill anyone, I swear,” he continued, examining the tops of his boots. 

“Well, daytime Nightwing is out,” Grayson said. Damian looked up, meeting his gaze. “First of all, oxymoron, and also I couldn’t send you out with no vigilante training all on your own. No offense to the League of Assassins, but you guys don’t know the first thing about petty crime.” 

“They’re not known for it,” Damian agreed. 

“Being my Robin is also out,” Grayson continued, and Damian felt his heart squeeze inside his chest. “Name’s taken, you know, and Nightwing doesn’t exactly have a Robin. Nightwing is a name from a Kryptonian legend, actually. Legend has it that his partner’s name is Flamebird.”

Damian swallowed. “Interesting,” he said, trying to keep his face neutral.

Grayson clapped him on the shoulder. “I don’t know what you did to make Cass vouch for you,” he said. “But I trust her judgement, so I’m going to give you a shot. How about we put you in school, and if that works out we can take it from there?” 

He bit his lip. He didn’t know what he’d done to make Cain trust him either, actually, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “That’s very wise of you, Grayson. Cain is an exceptionally good judge of character.” He gulped, and then blurted out, “don’t tell Father I’m here.” 

Grayson’s eyes glittered. “He’s going to find out eventually.” 

“Yes,” Damian said. “But...please. For now. Don’t tell Father until I’ve proved myself.” 

Grayson regarded him carefully. “Alright.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Grayson - this universe’s Grayson, at least - wasted no time, sending Damian off to school the very next day.

“I’ve done stuff like this all the time,” he explained, filling out paperwork by hand. “City schools aren’t the best for privacy, but they’re all we can manage right now. Actually, being behind on electronic records will actually help you hide for a little bit; it’s harder for people to track down physical paperwork. Okay, our story is that you’re a foster kid that I’m hosting for a little bit, sound good? You can keep Damian, but we should probably have a different last name than Al Ghul, just in case. Do you have one you like?” 

Damian shrugged. “I suppose Wayne is out too, then.” He shuffled through names in his mind’s eye. “My last name...Armstrong. No, Hunter. No - Fury. No! Danger. Damian Danger.”

Grayson rolled his eyes but smiled. “Damian Danger?” 

“Yes,” Damian answered promptly. “I guarantee you I will live up to the name.” 

Grayson looked back down at the paper, smiling. “That is a cool name,” he said. “If it wasn’t a potentially long-term thing, I’d totally go for it, but unfortunately it is and I have to be a bit of a stick in the mud.” 

He slumped down in his chair. “Fine. Damian Stone, or something.” 

“You know,” Grayson said carefully, “My mother’s maiden name was Latcko.” 

Damian looked over at him sharply. This Grayson barely knew him. “Damian Latcko is fine,” he replied, just as carefully. 

“Brilliant,” Grayson responded, writing it down. 

School was everything Damian suspected it would be - overcrowded and largely unfulfilling - but it gave Grayson the opportunity to return to work without watching Damian for a betrayal every hour of the day. It also ensured that Grayson held up his end of the bargain. 

“Voila,” Grayson said, tossing a package at Damian as he came home from school all day. “One Flamebird suit, at your service.” 

“Finally!” Damian exclaimed, ripping open the box at high speed and holding it up. “Wait. You never measured me. How did you know my size?” 

Grayson winked. 

“It’s just another red Nightwing costume,” Damian said, turning it over. “Not that I mind, I suppose.” 

“What’s wrong with the Nightwing costume?” Grayson asked. 

“Nothing,” he said. 

“Damn straight,” Grayson agreed. “Look, if we’re going to do this, we need to train you properly. As you may have noticed, there’s no way we can do that in here -” Damian had been sleeping on the pull-out couch for all of his stay, his new clothes shoved into a small chest of shelves they had found on the side of the street one day - “so we’ll have to do it outside. At night. We’ll have to avoid being seen together, too, but if you’re by yourself people will just assume that you’re me.”

“What, are you going to train me by radio?” Damian drawled. 

“There’s just a lot to being a vigilante, alright?” Grayson said. “Look, I know this big abandoned warehouse over east that we can start in. I just wanted to warn you that this might take a bit before you’re actually on the street.” 

“I’ve been Ro-” Damian cut himself off, remembering at the last minute that this Grayson didn’t know he wasn’t who he claimed to be. It was just as well. If he told the truth now, he’d just be called a crazy liar and shipped back to the League. “I mean, I’ve been trained by the League of Assassins since birth. I know more than you think I do.” 

Grayson smirked. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I prepare something of a pre-test, alright? I’ll check out your skills and see what exactly we need to work on.” 

* * *

“Wow,” Nightwing said, staring down at the sixth dummy that Damian delivered safely to his feet. “No broken necks, no casualties of any kind, almost a perfect record for you-”

Damian reached behind his back and pulled off the teddy bear he’d strapped there, and then tossed it in the direction of the smallest dummy.

Nightwing raised his eyebrows under his mask. “What are they teaching over at the League these days?” 

“Tt,’ Damian scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’re an idiot, B - Nightwing.” 

Grayson definitely noticed his almost slip, cocking his head as he observed Damian with interest. “Remind me why you want to do this again? The whole hero thing. Why now?” 

“Because I don’t want to be an assassin anymore,” Damian answered uncomfortably. “Look, did I pass your stupid test or not?” 

“Motivation is important,” Grayson continued. “I’ve worked with a lot of vigilantes, so I know-”

“I’m not Red Hood,” Damian interrupted. “Don’t worry, I’m not here on some stupid revenge quest. I’m not looking to hurt anyone.” 

“Just tell me what changed,” Grayson said. 

Damian turned away from him, staring out over the warehouse that Grayson had set full of booby traps and fake people for him to rescue. “I’m thirteen now,” he said, trying to think of some plausible story. “By League terms, I’m a man. And - I realized - I didn’t want…”

“But why?” Grayson pushed. “You’ve never questioned your mother before-”

“Maybe I never wanted to be an assassin!” he exploded, turning around. “Didn’t the Court of Owls takeover happen to you last year? You know what it’s like-”

“That’s different.” 

Damian marched over to him. “Just because the Talons didn’t get to you in time-”

“Whoa,” Grayson said. “Look, Flamebird, I know I was lucky to have your dad in my life-”

“Exactly,” he said. “He chose you. Why the hell did he never chose  _ me?”  _

Grayson opened his mouth, and then paused. 

Damian immediately regretted his words. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he mumbled, cheeks flaming. “Forget I said anything.”

Grayson reached out a hand to him. “Damian,” he said softly. 

“So, I think I’m street-ready,” Damian continued, pulling out the small grappling gun kept in his wrist pockets and making his way outside. “How about my first patrol, yeah? We can test if the comms work.” 

“Flamebird,” Grayson said louder, his tone of voice still disgustingly pitying. 

“I’m fine, Nightwing, I don’t need him, I’ve always had-”  _ you.  _ “-myself, and that’s all I need. I mean, I apparently tried to murder Drake in cold blood several times, so I probably deserve it.” 

Nightwing was staring at him, apparently reaching a decision in his mind. “We can split up my usual patrol,” he said. “You take the east side,and I’ll take west. Comm every five minutes, and make sure you tell me before you go after anyone. Our masks both have cameras, so I’ll be able to tap in and see whatever-”

“Great,” Damian said, shooting his grapple and swinging himself out the whole in the ceiling. “See you in the morning, Nightwing!” 

* * *

For the first time ever, Damian decided to join a club at school. Grayson’s apartment was getting a little crowded, and it just so happened to line up with the first day of track season. 

The coach (Damian’s art teacher, interestingly enough) looked down at the forged permission slip he’d slammed down on her desk with interest. “Damian Latcko! I didn’t know you were a runner.” 

“I’m in shape,” Damian said. “Three o’clock, yes?” 

“Yes, make sure you’re all changed by then. You’ll be one of only new 8th graders, but I’m sure you’ll make new friends in no time.” 

It was evident to Damian after warm-ups that he was easily one of the best runners on the team, and also that the other runners liked to chat during their long jogs. He sorted himself into the throwers’ category when their coach asked them to split up; field events were solitary, and this way he could spend most of practice lifting weights. Patrols at night would be more than enough cardio. 

One of the designated team captains was a thrower named Caleb, who was much taller and much thicker than Damian. He looked over Damian’s skinny elbows with skepticism. “I heard you just got to this school. You ever do track before?” 

“No,” Damian said. “But don’t worry, I’m good.” 

“We’ll see,” Caleb said, and then moved onto another boy. Damian rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. There were only a few other 8th graders, several 7th and many 6th. Signs were looking good that he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. 

Since Mondays were one of Grayson’s regularly scheduled work days, he still beat Grayson home by half an hour. He wasn’t allowed on patrol tonight (Grayson had stupidly limited it to two school nights per week, but he didn’t really mind since  _ his  _ Grayson - Batman Grayson - had a limit of one) so he showered right when he got home, and was out tinkering with the batarangs - sorry, wingdings - by the time Grayson got home. 

“Hey, bud,” Grayson said, dropping his keys on the table and shrugging out of his navy blue jacket to reveal the ill-fitting light blue uniform underneath. “How was school today?” 

“Just because you’re dressed like an after-school special doesn’t mean you have to talk like one,” Damian informed him, throwing the wingding at his makeshift target on the wall next to the TV. 

“What?” Grayson asked. “That’s a regular question!” 

“School was fine,” Damian said. He considered not telling to save his dignity, but then confessed, “I joined the track and field team. If asked, you signed my permission slip.” 

He expected Grayson to make a big deal out of it - back home, whenever Damian showed the slightest bit of inclination for a ‘normal’ activity, Richard instantly dropped what he was doing and smiled widely and showered him with praise.

This Grayson just nodded politely and said, “Oh, cool. That will be fun. What do you think about dinner?” 

Damian’s throat closed up. “Nothing,” he said. “But I’m all sweaty, so I’m going to go shower. I’ll be right back.” 

“Alright,” Grayson said. “But dinner should be ready in 30 minutes, so don’t take too long.” 

And if Damian’s eyes leaked a tear or two while pretending he was to shower for the second time that day, nobody heard over the spray of the water. 

* * *

The Flamebird costume was distinctly weighted, much differently than his Robin uniform. Instead of a utility belt, everything was tucked into wrist and ankle bracelets, and with the obvious lack of cape, it took Damian several patrols to adjust. Despite his inadaquacies, however, Grayson’s theory was sound. Nobody seemed to notice from a distance that he was different from the usual Nightwing. Moreover, neither his mother nor his father had seemed to notice him either. 

“Your mother is still looking for you, you know,” Grayson said, sending a file to Damian’s laptop on the League of Assassins’ recent activity. The file contained obviously redacted information in some places, but Grayson hadn’t given Damian his own access to the Bat-database, for obvious reasons. 

(Grayson didn’t know that Damian had broken in weeks ago to search for information about this universe and how he might get home, but he didn’t need to. It hadn’t even been hard to hack, considering he was  _ Robin  _ and all.)

“Let her look,” Damian replied dismissively. “She’ll never suspect me to be here.” 

Grayson wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t be too confident about that.” 

“Grayson, you have to admit, hiding me right under Batman’s nose - yes, I know Father is also still looking for me, you don’t have to lie - is out of character for you,” Damian said. “Even I’m surprised you’ve put up with me for so long.” 

“Well,” Grayson said. “It helps that you’ve never tried to kill me, personally-”

“You were never a threat to the League,” Damian scoffed. 

“-but also - Damian, you’re just a kid. A thirteen-year-old kid who’s technically my brother.” He smiled crookedly at Damian. “Family deserves second chances, and all.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Right.” 

“Also,” Grayson said. “You’re much better trained than I expected. I mean, I’ve worked with lots of teenagers before, especially when I was on the Teen Titans, and I’ve seen what your League assassins can do - and I didn’t think the skill set would match up, but you’re just a natural.” 

“You are aware who I am, and who my father is, yes?” 

“Shut up,” Grayson said. “I’m complimenting you.” 

“I’m glad training a sidekick is easier than anticipated,” Damian said. 

“Whoa,” he held up his hands. “You don’t have to use the word sidekick-”

“While I am acting much more independently than someone of my usual position, I am still younger and still learning,” Damian said calmly. “I know what I am, Grayson, you don’t have to coddle me.” 

Grayson quirked an eyebrow. “It’s probably about time you helped me with an actual case,” he said, flicking his finger and sending another file to Damian’s computer. “Well, less of a case, and more of a reoccurring problem. Tad Ryerstad is back in town.” 

He frowned. “Never heard of him.” 

“He calls himself Nite-wing, N-I-T-E wing,” Grayson explained. “He’s a vigilante and a bit of a sociopath.”

“What, a copycat?” Damian asked. 

“Supposedly the name is just a coincidence,” Grayson said. 

“Yeah, right,” he scoffed. 

Grayson seemed amused by his disbelief. “Anyway,” he continued, “He has a bad habit of popping up right when I don’t want him. Do you think you can tail him tonight, see what brought him back into town?” 

“Of course I can,” Damian answered. “What will you be doing?” 

“I got a tip at work I’m going to check out,” Grayson told him. He tilted his head, and then continued, “Supposed mob meet-up tonight.”

* * *

Nite-wing was a decent martial artist - much better compared to the average citizen, but still nothing compared to Damian. Watching him fight drunken idiots outside of bars was easily one of the most boring assignments he had ever had. Damian debated taking on Ryerstad himself, but it probably wasn’t worth the trouble, and he needed Grayson to trust him. He hadn’t been this worried about getting someone to trust him since - never, actually. 

Ryerstad continued to prowl outside of a few bars until about 1 AM, when he talked to someone and then abruptly changed course, taking a bus to a mostly residential block. Good, he was probably going to sleep. Maybe Damian could catch up with Nightwing. 

From a window, Damian watched as Ryerstad unlocked a door and then was promptly tazed by a man inside it.

Damian broke through the glass, throwing a wingding into the man’s arm and pulling out one of the escrima sticks from its holster on his shoulder blades. The attacker howled in pain, and Damian bounded up to him and kicked him up against a wall, shoving the point of his stick into the man’s throat. 

There was no one else coming through the door, so Damian kept it there and watched the man’s eyes bulge in surprise. “What were you doing?” he growled. 

The man’s eyes were so wide they were practically going to fall out of his head. “Nightwing?” he gasped. “You’re supposed to be down in west ‘Haven! You were just there five minutes - wait.” His eyes flicked up and down. “The fuck? Are you a kid?” 

Damian smiled cruelly and twisted his escrima stick where it was pressed against man’s windpipe. “What were you doing with Ryerstad?” he demanded. “If you don’t tell me, you’re never going to be telling anyone anything again.” Not that Damian would seriously hurt his vocal cords, but he didn’t need to know that. 

The man gasped, trying to jerk his head back. “Fine, it was a trap!” he gasped. “It’s not my fault, I was just hired for it-”

“Why?” Damian growled. 

“Just trying to make sure anyone who would cause trouble is out of the way!” he gasped. “Shit, feral Nightwing, don’t kill me, or else the real one will come for you-”

“Out of the way of what?” Damian asked. 

“They’re hacking the government database,” the squealer said. “They’re gonna clear everyone’s records, they’re breaking into the courthouse!” 

Damian wrinkled his nose. “My name is Flamebird, you know,” he told the man seriously, and then knocked him out with a quick blow to the temple. He pressed a button on his mask to activate the internet and then asked, “Computer. What is the location of the Bludhaven criminal court?” 

_ “201 East 33rd street,”  _ the computer chimed through his comm unit. 

It was closer to Damian than it was to Grayson, so Damian leapt out the same window he came in and started swinging. “Nightwing,” he tried, but Grayson didn’t answer. “Oh, come on. Let the 13-year-old you barely know out by himself, yeah, that’s a good idea. Decide to not answer comms, great idea. Have him unravel some apparently methodically planned criminal plot-”

Damian landed on the street in front of the justice building, which had a door hanging open. “You better not have gotten yourself also knocked out,” he said vaguely into the comms, which still gave no reply. “If I have to rescue you on my first big patrol out, I will call Batman, I swear to God.” 

For lack of better options, Damian slowly entered the building through the front door. The lobby was ominously empty, but he followed the noises of shouting back to a computer room, and-

A body comes flying out of the doorway, falling unconscious to the floor next to Damian, Nightwing standing in the doorway of the room. “Flamebird,” he exclaimed, sounding as surprised as Damian felt. “What are you doing here?” 

“Same as you, I suspect,” Damian answered. “Why weren’t you answering comms?” 

“I used an EMP, but that won’t last long,” Nightwing said. “Run, before security cameras come back-”

He was interrupted by the flickering of the lights as building started coming to life again. 

“Shit,” Nightwing said. “They’re going to catch us both at the same place at the same time. Run.” 

* * *

Damian fell asleep before Grayson made it home, and was up and off to school the next morning before they got their stories straight. Hopefully they hadn’t been caught. What were the chances of getting caught, anyways? It not like anyone was  _ looking  _ for two Nightwings. 

There was a track meet after school that day - Damian lost the 100m sprint but won the javelin throwing contest, which satisfied both his pride and his requirements for a secret identity. He was also, surprisingly, making friends with the other boys on the team. He’d never been friends with many civilians even back home  _ (the other reality, he’d been here for over a month now, why was he still here?) _ but here he didn’t have the reputation of his bitter, 10-year-old self holding him back, so…

“I think we’re going to win the meet,” Damian commented to Caleb, the team captain, who was watching the 1600 meter race disinterestedly. 

“We always win against Bludhaven Northeast,” Caleb scoffed. “They’re not good.” 

“Oh,” Damian said. “Who’s the main competition, then?” 

“Saint Joe’s,” Caleb drawled. “They’re so stuck up. Their colors are black and red, so they called themselves the Nightwings. I was so glad when Nightwing switched back to blue last year. It sucks a little more now that he’s switching.” 

Damian smirked to himself, watching his teammates running on the course. “Yeah,” he agreed casually. “Do you think the colors mean anything, or is it just when he forgets to do laundry?” 

Caleb snorted, turning to Damian with interest. “Do you want to know something?” he asked quietly. “My dad heard that the red and the blue Nightwing are actually two different people, that they work together.” 

Damian’s heart sank. “Heard from who?” he demanded. 

“I don’t know,” Caleb answered. “But how wild is that? Two Nightwings?” 

Damian forced himself not to grit his teeth. “Like silver Flash and gold Flash?” 

Caleb stared at him blankly. “What? There are two Flashes? I know there’s the really really old one, but...” 

He wrinkled his nose. Was that not the case in this reality? “Um, maybe,” Damian said. “Maybe he just switched too. I forget.” 

They were interrupted by the end of the 1600m race, and didn’t speak again for the rest of the meet, which their team won easily. Damian took the city bus home, worried that if a random boy at school could have heard, the news could have easily spread to- 

He unlocked the front door and nearly jumped out of his skin at the woman waiting inside. “Oracle!” he screamed. “What the - what are you doing here?” 

Barbara Gordon stared at him solemnly from her wheelchair, seated next to the couch. “Hello to you, too.”

“How you did you get up the stairs?” Damian asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you everyone for the lovely feedback!!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the story's rating has changed (mostly for language)

Grayson popped out of the kitchen, hands full of two steaming mugs of tea. “Damian!” he rebuked. 

“What’s she doing here?!” Damian demanded again, a little sick to his stomach. Oracle was here to kick him out, she was going to convince Grayson that he was a murderer and then Damian would have no one, and nothing, and  _ this wasn’t even the right reality he wanted to go home he just wants to go-  _

“I’m just here to talk,” Gordon said smoothly, raising her hands in the air and sharing a look with Grayson over Damian’s head. “Nice uniform.” 

Damian flushed - he’d just thrown a jacket on over his track uniform after the meet today, and he knew the maroon-and-yellow monstrosity he was still wearing was not intimidating in the least. “I had a track meet today,” he mumbled. “Aren’t you supposed to be working in a library or something, Gordon?”

“Are you supposed to be plotting Tim’s assassination from a League of Assassin’s compound, Flamebird?” she retorted. 

Damian’s hands clenched into fists around the straps of his backpack - he’d forgotten that in this reality, he’d tried to murder Drake several more times. “I’d been trying to kill him for years,” Damian said hoarsely, “And never succeeded. I decided it was time to finally accept that I was just a really horrible assassin.” 

“O-kay!” Grayson interrupted loudly. “Damian, you probably want a shower after your big track meet today, right? Why don’t you go change?”

Damian shot him a look. 

Grayson’s face hardened. “Now,” he ordered softly. “Don’t worry, we’ll still be here when you get back.” 

Damian huffed and marched back to the bathroom. 

* * *

After the fastest shower of Damian’s life, he marched back out to the living room where Grayson and Gordon appeared to be having a tense, hushed conversation. They both immediately stopped when he came in the doorway. 

Damin rolled his eyes. “I know you’re talking about me. If you’re going to send me away, just get on with it.” 

“No one’s sending you anywhere,” Grayson said hotly. 

Damian raised his eyebrows, but Gordon didn’t have any reaction. Resigned, maybe. “I just wanted to see if it was true myself,” she said. “I caught a rumor last night, which led to some security footage, which eventually led to a match from facial recognition. I thought I must have been crazy, but here you are.” 

“Here I am,” Damian echoed, looking down at where her and Grayson were seated very close together. “Forgive me, have we met before?” 

Gordon quirked an eyebrow. “No,” she answered. “Not in person.” 

“Good,” Damian answered, looking to Grayson for guidance. “Good, right?”

Grayson snorted, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Damian,” he said. “Hey, I forgot to ask, did you win today?” 

He blinked. “Of course,” he heard himself answer. “It was just Bludhaven Northeast.” 

“Oh, of course,” Grayson agreed, turning to Gordon and smiling exaggeratedly. “Bludhaven Northeast. Did you win all the events?” 

“I got first place in javelin,” Damian shrugged. It felt almost like an undercover mission, playing a normal 13-year-old boy with nothing more to worry about than sports. “They also put throwers in some sprinting events for fun, but actually I’m not that fast, comparatively.”

Gordon must have known they were pulling a con, but all she said was, “Don’t worry about it, Damian. You should grow into your feet soon enough.” 

Damian narrowed his eyes. “Thank you,” he ground out. “I’m supposed to be quite tall when I grow up.” 

Gordon stared at him for a few more long seconds, but then turned back to Grayson. “I’m not going to tell Bruce,” she said, and Damian let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “But if I found out, it’s only a matter of time before he does too.” 

“That’s fine,” Grayson said. “I can handle Bruce.” 

“I will handle him,” Damian corrected, bringing the two adults’ focus back to him. “I asked Grayson for help. The whole situation is my doing.” He swallowed. “Father would probably believe it if I said I just played Grayson’s soft heart, anyways.” 

Grayson made a face, but didn’t correct him. 

“I should be going,” Gordon announced, a gleam of something Damian couldn’t place in her eye. “Damian, nice to meet you. Make sure this one doesn’t get himself hurt.” She flicked Grayson on the shoulder. 

“Ha-ha,” Grayson deadpanned. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for dinner? We’re having takeout.” 

“I have to get back to Gotham,” Gordon answered. “As delicious as takeout sounds…” 

Grayson laughed. “I’ll walk you out.” 

“Don’t take too long flirting outside,” Damian mumbled after them. Gordon was already through the door, but Grayson caught it and glared at him on the way out. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Damian challenged. “I’m right!” 

* * *

After the close call, Grayson tried to get Damian to quit his night job. 

“Just because of Father?” Damian challenged. “Am I not a help? Isn’t it useful to have a second pair of eyes?” 

“Of course you’re helpful, Damian,” Grayson huffed. “But it’s dangerous, and as far as not getting discovered - we’re not running the world’s most stealthy operation here, you know? Anyone who takes a close look is going to figure it out-”

“You do mean my Father,” he realized. “You’re...are you scared of him?” 

Grayson was definitely glaring now. “No,” he said. “You’re the one who said he didn’t want to get caught.”

“We won’t get caught. Just because Gordon says...”

Grayson’s expression melted into a sad look. 

“Fine, Oracle is often if not  _ always _ right, whatever,” Damian huffed. “What am I supposed to do, if not Flamebird? Just laze around here, hoping my past doesn’t catch up to me? You can’t ask me to do that.” 

“It’s not lazing, Damian,” Grayson said. “It’s called living.” 

He bit back a sharp laugh. “How’s that working out for you?” 

“You deserve a normal life!” Grayson argued. “You deserve so much more than - so much more than I can give you, Damian.” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Damian asked. “You told Gordon that you weren’t, you promised-”

“No!” Grayson interrupted. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m saying it wrong. You staying here is not dependent on your ability to fight, do you hear me?” 

“I know that,” he scoffed. 

Grayson stared at him in disbelief.

“I  _ know  _ that,” Damian repeated. “You would love your life to be easier by not having to worry about me out at night. Has it ever occured to you that I  _ like  _ vigilante work?”

“Having you out at night with me isn’t a burden,” Grayson said heatedly, “But I just think you should consider your life without it. It’s going to be a big difference from the way you were raised-”

Damian tuned him out. This Grayson, with his tiny apartment and his freedom as Nightwing and a partner who had fallen right into his lap, couldn’t possibly know that Damian had had this argument with Richard before, only a thousand times bitterer and more volatile. “I’m not quitting,” he said with an authority he knew he didn’t have. 

Grayson sighed. “Damian, I just...I worry, you know. It’d be different if I could keep you in arm’s reach all the time.” 

“Maybe one day,” Damian said, and regretted it instantly when Grayson threw him a sharp look. “What? You’re the one who said we can’t avoid my father forever. Maybe we’ll be able to talk him down, and I can stay.” 

“You want to stay?” Grayson echoed. 

Damian struggled not to flinch. “I - I don’t have to.” He was showing Grayson way too many cards. He knew what it must look like - Damian hadn’t even here three months yet. He shouldn’t be so attached. Grayson wasn’t buying it. 

“We can cross that bridge when we come to it,” Grayson said. 

“Of course,” Damian said, relieved. “Why don’t we head out for patrol?” 

* * *

It was another two weeks before they got the distress call from Gotham. 

“Killer Croc and Poison Ivy?” Damian read, looking over Grayson’s shoulder. “Natural theme, I suppose. Think Mr. Freeze will show up?” 

“Little bit of a reach, there, Dami,” Grayson said, throwing him a smirk. 

“Tt,” Damian said. “Don’t call me that. When are we - you, leaving?” 

Grayson’s expression melted. “Do you want to talk to your father?” 

_ “No,”  _ Damian snarled. “You don’t - he’s just going to send me back to my mother, and I’m not going.”

“He might not,” Grayson said. “I can talk to him-”

“You’ve done enough, Grayson,” Damian insisted. “I don’t want to strain your relationship.” 

Grayson snorted. “Bruce and I have gone through worse than this.” 

_ He’s your father,  _ Damian wanted to say, but didn’t. It wouldn’t be in character. Instead he asked, “How long will you be gone?” 

“Maybe a few days,” Grayson said, and stood up. “I should pack. You’ll be alright on your own, right?” 

“Of course,” Damian scoffed. 

“No patrolling on your own.” 

Damian made an expression that may have been labeled a pout. “Oh, sure, let me have a boring long weekend while you’re off getting the action.” 

“Damian,” Grayson rebuked lazily, pulling a suitcase out from the closet. 

“Can Cain come back here?” he asked. “She liked me well enough the first time. I could patrol with her.” 

“Absolutely not,” Grayson said. “Nightwing can’t be fighting people in Gotham  _ and  _ swinging around Bludhaven. Besides, Batgirl is going to be needed in Gotham too.” 

“Batgirl,” Damian said, and decided to risk a question. “Wasn’t there some other batgirl that used to fight with you a lot? Stephanie Brown, or something?” 

Grayson dropped the suitcase down and turned around to glare at Damian, his entire body tense. “Not funny.” 

“What?” he asked, already dreading the answer. 

Grayson took a deep breath, looking like he was forcing himself to relax all his muscles. “You didn’t know? I thought League of Assassin records were better than that. Stephanie Brown died around three years back.” 

Damian blinked, and he clamped his jaw shut before he could give anything away. “Oh,” he said, after a moment. He couldn’t believe it.  _ Dead?  _

“Yeah,” Grayson said, and kept staring at him instead of turning back to his suitcase. 

What kind of universe was this, that Stephanie had died while his father was still breathing? His father wouldn’t - Stephanie was Batgirl. She’d been Batgirl as long as Damian had been Robin. He couldn’t - he didn’t remember what her codename had been before, something stupid, but she’d been around, he knew that. She’d even been Robin briefly. His father wouldn’t have let a Robin  _ die.  _

_ Todd had died.  _

That didn’t count, he came back. His father - Stephanie - his father - 

“You ok there?” Grayson asked, and Damian missed Richard more acutely than he had in weeks in that moment. “You don’t have to think so hard about League records, you know. You’re not there anymore.” 

“I know,” Damian said mechanically. “I’m going to go check on the groceries to make sure I have enough food while you’re away.” 

He left the room. He didn’t go check on the food supplies in the kitchen, because he knew he wouldn’t need it. 

There was no way he was letting Grayson go alone to a Gotham where Batman let Robins die. 

* * *

Sneaking into Gotham wasn’t any more difficult than sneaking out had been. He’d had to do some fancy signal processing to trick the trackers in his suit and bike into thinking they were still in Bludhaven, but he’d had prep time. It was really no problem. By the time Grayson noticed something was off, he’d be busy fighting Killer Croc and Poison Ivy in Gotham. 

And Damian would be there to watch, just in case. 

As useful as hacking the comms would be, that was a little out of his skill set - even if he could break through, Oracle would have him in a heartbeat. Nothing got into her network without her permission. So he had to search the city, blind, while avoiding every vigilante there was. 

Sneaking around...Damian wasn’t bad at it, per se, but he also wouldn’t say he was the best - that definitely went to Cain. Drake wasn’t bad undercover, either. But Damian? No one was giving him awards anytime soon. 

He went after the giant jungle Poison Ivy was growing downtown first. It was incredibly dense, enough to have probably taken months of planning on Poison Ivy’s part. Damian had never seen anything like it. There must be a supernatural plant source, probably something in the sewers given Killer Croc’s involvement…

The sewers were too closed off, though. He’d get caught for sure down there. He just needed to find Grayson and keep an eye on him. 

A shriek from below grabbed his attention. Damian’s gaze jerked down - surely the civilians should all have been on lockdown by now, right? “Teenagers,” he scoffed out loud. Gotham teenagers had no healthy fear for their lives. 

He took a grappling hook down from his rooftop hiding spot and slashed through a vine that had been growing mindlessly around a panicked high-school boy’s leg. The boy yelped in relief and almost fell into more vines that were growing from a rain gutter. “Thanks, Nightwing!” 

“Be more careful,” Damian ordered. “Get home right away!” 

“I’m trying!” the boy said. “My mom lives right down the street, and Red Hood said he’d shoot me if I made any more detours-”

“Hood’s here?” Damian exclaimed, his voice cracking in the middle of the second word. His eyes shot up to the rooftops - there’s no way Hood would be caught down in the debts of this stupid jungle - 

There. A flash of the bright red helmet. 

“Shit!” Damian exclaimed, and then immediately tried to act as though he hadn’t just seen the Red Hood up there. “I have to run.  _ Go home.”  _

The boy was frowning. “Are you the real Nightwing?” he asked. “I gotta say, I thought he was a lot older than-”

Damian shot another grappling hook in the opposite direction of Hood and started bolting. Shit, couldn’t one plan go right these days? He just wanted to make sure Grayson didn’t end up  _ dead,  _ and he was going to get caught before he even found him. 

He swung about a dozen blocks before he finally came to a halt, panting and looking around. It seemed like Hood hadn’t followed him, which was good, because he didn’t have much farther to swing - he was on the edge of the train yard, safely out of the range of Poison Ivy’s jungle. Maybe he got extremely lucky, and Hood hadn’t seen him. 

Who knew what the Red Hood in this universe was even like? 

Back home, Jason couldn’t stand Richard - they could handle cases together occasionally, but any sort of social gathering was extremely strained. Which meant that any interaction Damian himself had with Jason was strained by proxy - if Jason could snip at Damian to get to Richard, he would do it. 

It was a shame Jason Todd of his universe was such an asshole. He got along fine with Timothy, and Damian hated Timothy beating him in anything. 

Maybe the Todd in this universe was still brain-dead. It made as much sense as anything did in this fucking place. 

(Damian ignored the acute stab of longing in his gut to be sneered at by his own older brother. Jason would say something mean and then Richard would bristle in his defense and then Timothy would sigh and tell them both to cool off, and Stephanie would make some stupid joke to try to diffuse the tension and Cassandra would agree to help change the subject-)

“Focus,” he ordered. “Lay low. Find Nightwing. Tail Nightwing to make sure nothing happens to him.” 

If something happened to Nightwing, Damian would have nowhere to go, after all. 

Damian went back the way he’d come, much less rushed and paying more attention to staying stealthy. 

That was when he heard the explosion. Damian was too far away to make out any specifics, but he turned his head in time to see a lightning-like flash from the other side of the jungle. 

_ Oh, please let it be one of our bombs.  _

(If Grayson didn't die here, Damian might. Out of worry.) 

Rooftop hopping over the blocks Poison Ivy had claimed for her jungle was time consuming. Most of the plants hadn't quite made it up to the roof - the few that had seemed to be sprouting from the air conditioning systems - but the buildings all seemed to be groaning dangerously from their new plantly neighbors creeping in between their foundations.

The Poison Ivy from Damian's home universe had never done something this big. 

_ (Stephanie Brown was dead).  _

_ (Jason Todd hadn't chased him).  _

_ (Damian's own father didn't trust him).  _

"This entire dimension sucks," Damian said out loud, to ground himself. He crept over the rooftop of one last building and stopped as he saw the scene of the bomb. 

Rubble, everywhere. A water main had been hit, and there was water spewing all over the ground, bubbling as it lapped against chunks of asphalt. Batman and Robin, fighting Killer Croc together, working like clockwork. Various henchmen firing gunshots. 

Poison Ivy herself, in the middle of a giant monster made of vines, throwing Red Hood into the air. Nightwing swooped in and caught him, tossing Hood through a nearby window for safety and being forced to fire another grappling line in another direction before he could land himself. It was chaos. 

Poison Ivy shot a stream of orange liquid from one of her plants that hit Nightwing straight on, with enough force to stop him midair. 

Nightwing let go of his grappling line. 

Red Hood screamed. 

Damian dove off his rooftop, shooting his own grappling hook into the building on the other side of the street and praying he'd aimed his trajectory correctly. He caught Nightwing with one hand outstretched, his shoulder wrenching with a  _ pop _ as he grabbed his partner's deadweight and continued his swing, slamming straight through the same window that Red Hood had landed in. 

They landed on the floor with a heap, and Damian bit back a scream at the pressure on his right shoulder. 

"Oh my  _ fucking  _ god," Red Hood said, his voice tinny through his helmet. He knelt down next to Nightwing and pulled him off Damian. "You weren't fucking kidding, Big Bird." 

Nightwing let out a groan and convulsed a little on the ground. "...Jay? What..." 

"Is he concussed?" Damian blurted out, pushing himself into sitting position and feeling around his right shoulder with his left hand. It was definitely dislocated - probably wrenched out of its socket by his awkward catch of Nightwing's full weight. 

"No, it's just the poison," Hood said, patting down Nightwing in a quick medical assessment. "I told him to wear his goddamn breather - not that it would have done much good, but it would have been something." 

"Antidote?" Damian asked. 

"Do I look like an EMT to you?" Hood snapped, but he was pulling some kind of pill out of his belt even as he spoke. "Hey, Dickwing, I need you to take this." 

"Can't see," Nigtwing mumbled. 

"Are your eyes even open?" Hood asked. "Say ah." 

"Nnn-mm." 

Damian reached over and pinched Nightwing's nose shut. Nightwing's mouth gasped open automatically, and Red Hood forced his pill in. 

"Is he going to choke?" Damian asked, looking down as Nightwing did just that. 

"As long as it gets in his system," Hood said. Nightwing coughed once more and then swallowed loudly. "There we go." 

Nightwing groaned and flopped back down on the ground. 

"Seems concussed," Damian said. 

"He'll fight it off," Hood said. "I'm going back out there. Now I don't know your deal, pipsqueak, but are you coming or do you want to grab mommy wing and run?" 

Damian bared his teeth. "I can still fight!" he snapped, jumping up to his feet. A burst of pain echoed from his shoulder and he remembered he'd have to do something about that, first, or he'd be down an arm. "Shit. Stand still while I fix my shoulder, would you?" 

Red Hood let out a whistle as he gazed over Damian's injury. "Man, you popped that sucker right out, didn't you?" 

"Shut up," Damian snapped, slowly reaching his right elbow up above his head. At its peak, Red Hood grabbed it and pulled, and then his shoulder slotted right into place. 

"There you go, tough guy," Hood said. "If you're this good, why's Nightwing been hiding you from Batman?" 

Damian took a deep breath, flexing his shoulder cautiously. "I'm not talking about my father with you, Hood." 

"Your father?" Red Hood echoed, and then a second later added, incredulously,  _ "Damian al Ghul?!"  _

Damian twitched in surprise and took a hesitant step back. "Why are you surprised? You have to know me."

"The fuck I do!" Hood said. "When I saw you earlier I asked Dick why the hell he had a red twin, and he told me he'd been training a kid recently and that you must have snuck out. Made me swear not to tell Batman, but I thought that was just because he didn't want the big man in his business. But this is fucking crazy!" 

"Enough!' Damian ordered, his heart starting to race. 

"What are you doing with Nightwing?" 

"None of your business!" Damian shouted. 

"Well, Batman's definitely seen you now," Hood continued. "How long have you and Dick been in contact? Before your last little murder attempt?" 

"No!" Damian said, and quickly changed the subject. "Are we going back out there or not?" 

"So you can make it look like an accident?" Hood said. 

Damian stomped his foot and turned towards the window. "Like you're an angel, Todd!" he yelled behind him, gazing at the street below. Batman and Robin were down there, but so were Killer Croc and Ivy. His original plan had gone down in flames with record timing, so might as well do whatever he wanted to now. Maybe if he could take down one person he could stop feeling like he was getting eaten alive from the inside. 

"Whoa!" Hood said loudly behind him, and grabbed Damian by the sore shoulder. Damian hissed and turned back towards Todd with a snarl on his face. "Where do you think you're going!" 

"I'm going to go take down Poison Ivy," Damian said. "And then Nightwing will get better and then we're going back home." 

Hood was silent at that, and Damian immediately chastised himself internally. Stupid - he shouldn't be calling Nightwing's stupid too-small apartment home. Nightwing wasn't his Richard. He shouldn't be sinking back into old habits, but it was just too easy. 

"Hey, if you want to beat Ivy up, you're kind of small and I've got a plan," Hood said after a few seconds. 

Damian snorted. "So you want to make me look like an accident?" 

"Are we working together or not?" 

"Admit I'm not small!" 

Hood made an exaggerated head movement that made it clear even through the helmet that he was rolling his eyes. "I can distract her while you go plant some explosives by the roots holding her up." He started opening pockets on his cargo pants, pulling out little golf-ball size objects. 

"If you blow me up I will haunt you," Damian threatened, accepting the bombs. 

"I don't do that to kids," Hood said seriously. "Hey, you can manage yourself out there, right?" 

Damian wrinkled his nose. "Who do you think I am?" 

"I think you're someone Nightwing trusted," Hood said. "Was he right?" 

Damian scoffed and threw himself out the window, Red Hood right on his tail. There was a brief instant where Batman’s gaze snapped directly to him as he flew to the ground - it was obvious, Batman’s cowl cut off a significant percentage of peripheral vision, he was staring directly at Damian - but then Killer Croc stomped and destroyed the pavement under their feet, water shooting everywhere, and Batman had to refocus on his battle. 

Red Hood was good on his word, and Poison Ivy wasn’t expecting a 2nd Nightwing. It was easy to plant the bombs around the roots supporting her, and to get out just before Hood set them off. Poison Ivy fell, and Hood jumped her before she could recover, and Damian was standing there useless without even the chance to punch something. 

Across the street, Batman and Robin pulled off a complicated maneuver with what appeared to be repurposed grappling cables, and Killer Croc fell too with a splash. 

“Woo-wee,” Hood whistled, brushing off his hands. “That was a doozy. Somebody better call Pest Control and give them a big bonus to clean all this up-”

“Who’s your friend,” Batman barked. Batman, his  _ father.  _ His father's voice had even more weight in person than it did on recordings. Damian resisted the urge to shiver. 

“Friend of Nightwing’s,” Hood answered for him, perhaps sensing his distress. 

Batman frowned. 

There was no way his father didn’t recognize him. Everyone was staring at him for what felt like hours. “Hello,” Damian decided on finally, hands clenched into fists behind his back. 

“I didn’t know Nightwing had a friend,” Red Robin - no, Robin, said, wandering closer to him in curiosity. “Though I have to say, you look kind of familiar. Have we met before?” 

Damian hesitated, but lying wasn’t going to get him out of this mess. “Well, yes, but I’ve turned over a different leaf.” 

Robin stopped and furrowed his brows. 

“Nightwing needs medical attention,” Damian said, gesturing to the window high above him. “If you want to-”

“What did you do to Nightwing, Damian?” Batman growled. 

Robin gasped and fell into a fighting stance.  _ “Damian?  _ I should have known! That costume is new low, even for-”

“I didn’t do anything!” he interrupted. 

“Yeah,  _ right-”  _ Robin started. 

“Hey, hey, I don’t think any of us have the whole story right now,” Hood said. “Why don’t you calm down, Replacement-”

“Tell us what you know, Red Hood,” Batman said. “This isn’t a situation for playing around.” 

“You don’t know what this monster has put me through,” Robin snarled. 

“Whoa, and I’m not?” Hood said. “I don’t take orders from you, and neither does he.” 

“If you all would just listen-” Damian started.

“Oh, we’ll listen to you,” Robin said, and reached for his bo staff. “In custody.” 

Damian jumped into an opposing stance automatically, his heart rate starting to pick up at the prospect of getting captured again. Sent back to the League, again. “I’m not going back to that cage.” 

“And I’m not trusting you again after last time,” Robin replied. “Last chance.” 

“The hell kind of-”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Batman throw another cylinder of knock-out gas his direction, but Red Hood jumped and batted it out of the air. At the same time, Robin leapt forward, forcing Damian to back out of reach of the staff. Damian pulled out an escrima stick from his back-holster to parry the next attack, ducking down to slip under Robin’s guard-

\- a few yards away, there was a thump as Batman landed a solid blow on Hood, sending him flying - 

There was a shout as someone landed hard in the middle of them. Nightwing. Robin retreated suddenly, and Damian moved to follow but was stopped by a heavy hand across his shoulder. He glanced up to see Hood, helmet knocked off, panting heavily. “Run,” he ordered. 

“What?!” 

Hood threw a smoke pellet down suddenly, and pushed Damian behind him. “Batman’s not going to give you a fair deal, kid,” he said. “Trust me, I know that. Give Dickwing time to sort things out. Go. Now.” 

Damian’s mouth opened automatically to argue, but he stopped. There wasn’t time, and Todd - Todd knew his father. Damian didn’t. 

He  _ didn’t,  _ and that fact had never burned more than it did now, as he fled down the street without another word. It was logical to run, he told himself. It was smart to play it safe. 

It felt a lot like cowardice. 

* * *

He’d made it two blocks before a birdarang hit him in the thigh and he tumbled over. It was only due to quick reflexes and familiarity with the pattern that he was able to escape the trip wire before it bound his legs completely. 

_ “Damian!”  _ Robin snarled, grabbling down from the sky with an aimed kick to the head that he had to roll to escape. “You’re not getting away that easily after what you did to Nightwing!”

“It was Poison Ivy, not me, idiot!” Damian yelled back. “You were right there-”

“Oh, spare me,” Robin said, launching another quick spin-strike that he was forced to dance back from. “You may have fooled the Red Hood, but your murderous ways-”

“I’m not trying to kill anyone-”

“I know you were involved with Stephanie’s death!” Robin shouted, and smacked Damian so hard in his sore arm that the escrima stick in his grip went flying. “I am  _ never  _ going to believe any of your million sob stories, and I am  _ never  _ going to forgive you.” 

Damian’s throat had suddenly closed up. He didn’t have an answer. He had - he’d - Grayson wouldn’t have taken him in if he’d killed Batgirl. His counterpart from this universe couldn’t have killed Stephanie - it was a lie, just another one of Drake’s million theories - theories that he couldn’t prove…

Robin struck again, aiming right for the junction between Damian’s neck and chest. He jerked to dodge, too slow to react properly, and the blow hit him in the shoulder and sent him flying sideways, towards the middle of the street where a manhole cover was blown off. Probably Killer Croc’s work. 

Correction: the manhole cover had been blown off, and more. Damian made contact with the surrounding pavement and it instantly crumbled, sending him tumbling into the deep sewer line below. 

Damian gasped as he was suddenly plunged into freezing water, swimming forward a little to get away from Robin’s view. He picked a tunnel at random and followed the flow of water forward, body on autopilot as he swam further and further away from the scene. 

He couldn’t have killed Stephanie. 

_ Why else would Stephanie be dead? What else was different about this universe?  _

He tumbled out of a storm drain into Gotham Harbor. The ocean water was impossibly colder. Damian considered going back to land for less than a second before he caught eye of a cargo ship, and promptly started towards it. He scaled the side until he was able to sneak up on deck, and then consequently down in between rows of shipping containers where no one would see him. 

He was cold, shivering uncontrollably, but at least the salt water would probably help short out the trackers in the Flamebird suit. He had enough ration bars on him for a few days, assuming he stretched them and wasn't able to find anything else. He’d have to, though - he wasn’t going back. He couldn’t go back. 

Damian swallowed as he curled up into a ball, his hands around his knees, to conserve warmth. He missed Batman. He missed his whole family - who even on their worst days, weren’t fighting each other in the  _ streets.  _

This dimension was the worst. 

He couldn’t go back to them. He couldn’t go back to Grayson like this - Grayson had dismissed Timothy’s theories before, sometimes in error. 

He couldn’t go back until he figured out why Batgirl had died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and given kudos! They mean the world to me. This story will be slow to update, but I do plan on finishing it (definitely have the plot and ending in mind). If you're looking for spoilers or anything else, feel free to yell at me at batengineerd over on tumblr. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Hopefully there wasn't too big a tonal shift in this chapter...maybe a tonal pivot...

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 is written, chapter 3 is halfish way done. Looking at maybe 5 parts total. Feel free to find me on tumblr at batengineerd if you want to talk =).


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